2007
Bruce looked evenly at the man in front of him. Was he studying him as well as Bruce was studying him?
Perhaps. It was in Scott King’s best interest to observe- and understand- his patient intimately. Here, inside this small space, packed with folders and files, there was hardly any room to breathe.
“Everything going well, Bruce?”
“As well as they can be, under the circumstances. You need to do something about this room, though. Forget me: it’s dangerous for your own health, spending eight hours in this place.”
“They are looking into it. We will probably move into a new place by the next week.”
“That’s great to hear,” Bruce said. He didn’t say that he was hearing that for the last four years, and he didn’t think it would happen this time, either. “What do you want me to talk about, Scott?”
“We could start with how you are feeling right now.”
“Right. I am feeling…” the word cramped came into his mind. Bruce pushed it aside, because he didn’t want to go down that particular rabbit hole. “I am feeling good, I think. Work is going okay. There was an…unexpected development yesterday, but it’s under control right now.”
“Could you elaborate?”
“I was working late into the night. Research and strategy planning, mostly. Scouting out my competitors. As I was preparing to leave, I noticed I wasn’t alone. There was somebody else in the…office.”
“Who was this person?”
“I don’t know. Not the usual type of person I meet in offices. She’s very sharp,” Bruce noted, massaging the wound in his left ear. “In more ways than one.”
“That looks dangerous. I hope your security came to your aid before something worse happened.”
“I didn’t really need security yesterday. Like I said, I have it under control. I guess I need to find out who she was, and then see what happens next, if she ever pops up on my radar. I don’t know why, but she rubs me wrong.”
“Is there anything in particular that makes you uncomfortable?”
“It’s the way she moved, and the way she talked. There wasn’t…malice in her intent, but she was there for her own reasons. Reasons that aren’t exactly Samaritan.”
“To be fair, Bruce, you do run one of the largest companies in the world. Corporate espionage is unfortunate, but not entirely unexpected, is it?”
“No, it isn’t. I was just caught offguard. It’s been a few years since that has happened.”
“Is that so? Why do you think you always have to be prepared, Bruce?”
“I have to be,” Bruce replied matter-of-factly. “There’s no other alternative. I receive three death threats per week. That doesn’t really get to me mentally, but I have to stay prepared all the same.”
“That’s partially correct. But what really interests me, Bruce, is how emotionally guarded you always are. Why do you do that, Bruce?”
Bruce laughed. “I barely have time to entertain emotions, Scott. I work a ninety hour work week.”
“So do other billionaires, but they also have families and children to spend time with.”
“I am not really planning on settling down anytime soon. I date every now and then, but you know how those have worked out so far.”
“Right. You try to find meaning in your work, but as I have told you earlier, work isn’t everything. You need some time off, to relax and recuperate. And having other people around to spend that time with, that’s more important than you think, too.”
“Right. Give me a couple of more years. Maybe I will change my mind.”
King nodded, scribbling away in his notepad. “Yes. Maybe you will.”
The rest of the session was spent exploring Bruce’s food and sleeping habits. Thankfully, King didn’t inquire him about his parents this time, which meant he didn’t have to lie to the man. He was used to fielding such questions from the press, but to lie to this man, whom Bruce trusted with his life, was a lot more difficult.
After a few more minutes, Bruce walked out, bidding King good day before closing the door. He smiled cordially at everyone else in the lobby, striding out into the street before anybody had a chance to realize who he was. He didn’t like to get ambushed by people, especially here of all places.
Bruce grabbed his tablet, checking his appointments for the rest of the day. He was scheduled to meet Harvey Dent later that day. That’s nice, he thought to himself, a small smile dawning on his features. There was at least some semblance of normality to his day.
~*~
They were still young, back then.
Harvey had just finished his first year at the District Attorney’s office. Bruce had returned to Gotham just two years ago, and his playboy persona was only just coming to the fore. It was hard to keep up the act with Harvey, though. The two men knew each other like the back of our hands.
“Jones is a class act, Bruce,” Harvey said. They were sitting at a roadside cafe. “But that Loeb, he’s going to be a tough nut to crack.”
“Are the rumors about him and the Falcone family true?”
“Of course. Worst kept secret in the law enforcement community. More crooked than my nan’s back.”
Bruce nodded thoughtfully. His own files on Loeb were extensive. He was the first corrupt cop Bruce wanted to target, once he was done with the mayor and his cronies.
“How’s Wayne Corp doing nowadays? I hear your weapons division is doing pretty well, especially off those war contracts you netted in ’04.”
“Yeah. It was doing well. But we have shelved government contracts for now. We are doing a lot of R&D to explore better alternatives to tanks and rifles.”
Harvey’s eyes widened. “Hah. You are taking this cleaning up Gotham thing seriously, aren’t you?”
“Well, pal, when a lightweight like you cleaned himself up and became a lawyer, I figured it was time I cleaned myself up too.”
Harvey laughed. It was amusing when he laughed.
Harvey was a stocky, powerful man. He embodied Teddy Roosevelt’s ‘walk softly, but carry a big stick’ mantra. However, when Harvey laughed, he always seemed like he was teetering near an invisible edge.
One bad day. That’s what Bruce thought of, when he saw Harvey laugh.
That’s what the Joker used to say, even back then. All it takes is one bad day to turn even the noblest of men into despicable monsters.
“I have to go, Bruce,” Harvey said, rising up from his chair. “I have got an appointment at 12 pm.”
“Alright. Let’s walk to the subway.”
They split the bill and set off for 50th St O’Neil Station. They were half a mile away, Bruce noted internally.
Bruce straightened his tie, briefly observing his reflection on a glass window. Slicked back, short hair. Sharp, hardened eyes. Gaunt cheeks that were slightly bruised.
His most telling feature, of course, was the half a centimeter of flesh missing from his left earlobe. He touched the wound, wincing slightly at the phantom pain.
Harvey noticed that. “How did that happen, Bruce?”
“Crossfit. Landed funny during a gymnastics routine.”
“That must be one intense Crossfit regimen, then.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
“Please, Bruce. I am smarter than I look,” Harvey smirked. “Tell her I said hello, and to trim her nails the next time you two go wild in your penthouse.”
“Hah! Try again. I don’t bring just anyone to my penthouse.”
“You say that as if your haunted Manor is any better.”
“Haunted is right. I am still traumatized from the time I got lost in the caves below.”
What Bruce said about the penthouse was technically true. Although it had a pleasing, art-deco aesthetic, Bruce used it strictly for business purposes. Sometimes, he entertained business clients when the occasion called for it.
Most of his time there, however, was spent in the company of Lucius Fox, poring over the suit and Batmobile designs, as well as every weapon and tool in Batman’s arsenal.
Bruce still don’t know how the others did it. Kent had a full-time job at the Planet, and Prince worked at the embassy. Sometimes, Bruce struggled to make it to board meetings on time. He left routine matters such as monitoring and evaluation checkups to his AIs and Fox a long time ago. He need all of his energy and attention for my real job.
Six hours on regular patrol. Four hours on average on cold cases. A weekend or two for every teamup.
Bruce turned 22 last May. But sometimes, he felt like a 35 year old. He barely had enough time for five hours of sleep in two weeks. Caffeine, meditation and focus kept him going when nothing else did.
That, and keeping Gotham’s soul alive.
Bruce glanced up from my iPhone intermittently, taking note of the neighborhoods we passed by. O’Neil Street had done well for itself. The streets were a little cleaner, and the alleys were a little quieter. Only one pusher hung around PS 215.
Bruce grimaced when he saw the man’s bruised and swollen lips. He remembered meeting him earlier. The man had fallen hard on the edge of the pavement while trying to run away from me. Bruce was busy handling his bigger pals.
Batman didn’t let pushers get away with just a cut lip. As an urban legend, he had a reputation to maintain.
They reached the station before long. It was old, older than most stations in Downtown. Another item to pitch for our urban renovation department, Bruce noted.
Harvey paused before going through the turnstile, checking his phone for messages.
“Looks like we are going to have a guest, Bruce.”
Bruce looked up from his phone, eyebrows raised questioningly.
“What can I say? She likes surprising people.” Harvey said.
Bruce smirked. Instead of going downstairs to catch the L train, he and Harvey took a seat at a nearby bench.
“Anyone I know of?”
“Nah. We met while you were in Nepal.”
“Right. Where’s she interning? Finch and Feinstein?”
“She isn’t in a law firm, Bruce,” Harvey chuckled. “She’s an art collector. A Dini graduate.”
Bruce’s smirk waned, and my eyes widened. Dini grads were a rare breed, even in Gotham. They were more likely to be found in Berlin or Barcelona. One of them designed the old Wayne Tower.
If Bruce didn’t know just how good Harvey was at his job- and also at charming the pant-suits off his dates- he would have gone so far as to say that Harvey was hitting out of his league.
“What did she study in Dini? Architecture?”
Harvey nodded.
“That’s great. What’s her portfolio so far?”
“…I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t think to ask,” Harvey added sheepishly.
“Some lawyer you are, Dumble-Dent.”
“Pfft. You can ask her yourself when you meet her.”
Bruce knew Harvey’s types.
Harvey fell for two types of women. Confident career women who hardly had time for themselves, let alone committed relationships; and free-spirited liberal arts majors who lived in the moment. One wrote blog posts about fourth-wave feminism and the looming housing crisis; the other vlogged about her vacation in South East Asia.
“I know that she volunteers at the ASPCA and the AMoMA,” Harvey offered. “Other than, she does some freelance on the side. Art, design, interior decorating, that kinda stuff.”
Bruce nodded perceptively. So this was the second kind of woman, then.
Bruce and Harvey waited at the station for a few more minutes. Just as Bruce was about to get up, however, he noticed a woman walking towards them, hands buried in the pockets of her tan overcoat. She was smiling widely, but her eyes weren’t telling the same story. And as she drew closer, Bruce knew why.
The same gait, the same poise and precision in her movements. She was the woman he ran into last night. And as she stood in front of them, her eyes darted to Bruce’s wounded ear. Her smiled flickered, as did her gaze; she forcibly refocused her attention, turning towards Harvey.
“You didn’t tell me you were with a friend, Harvey!”
“It’s only Bruce Wayne, Selina. It’s not like you don’t know him or anything.”
“He’s told me about you, Bruce,” Selina said, offering him her hand. “Hi, I am Selina Kyle.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Kyle. You seem familiar. Have we met each other before?”
“Maybe? I get around a lot, and I am sure you do as well.”
“That I do. We will be sure to catch up later. Here,” Bruce handed Selina a business card, “in case you feel like having a chat later.”
“Now, now, Bruce, I saw her first,” Harvey said, elbowing Bruce playfully. “But yeah, kidding aside, I am sure you two will hit it off right away.”
Selina smirked, confidence flashing in her green eyes. “Yeah, I agree with Harvey too. I am sure we can discuss…art and architecture at a later date.”
Bruce nodded. “Sure. Art, architecture…and other things.”
Bruce waved the two off as they walked past the toll gate, ascending up the stairs towards the platform. This certainly made for an interesting turn of events.
~*~
2009
“This is where you go to brood, isn’t it?”
Bruce turned expectantly towards the fire escape. Selina was sitting there, lazily cradling her whip, legs balanced dangerously across the edge of the next building.
Bruce approached her, hand trained on a batarang. He still didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her.
“I didn’t know if you would show. Thanks for making time out of your busy schedule.”
“Well of course. I would always make time for you. Remember the first time we met?”
“The Ace Chemicals rooftop?”
“No, silly,” Selina pushed off her mask, which lay limply on her shoulders. “Not as Batman and Catwoman. When we met. Harvey was there too.”
Bruce’s expression darkened. “You have some nerve bringing up his name. He went into a complete breakdown a few months afterwards, no thanks to you. You were supposed to be there, when he needed you.”
Selina scowled, placing her mask back on. “I like you, Bruce. But I will be no man’s martyr. And he wasn’t exactly a great guy either, even before he was Two Face.
But anyways. Water under the bridge. Why did you ask me to come here?”
“I wanted to talk to you. Not as Bruce, or even as Batman. As equals.”
“Fine. Talk away.”
“Yes, I will. But firstly, let’s decide on one thing. We have a truce. For the rest of the night.”
Bruce unlocked his utility belt, taking it off his waist and throwing it a good distance away. Selina nodded, sliding her whip away.
“Truce.”
Bruce walked towards the northern edge of the rooftop, before stopping by a gargoyle. “What do you see when you look at the city, Selina?”
Selina bit her lip, inhaling deeply. “I see the Titanic, sinking slowly into the Atlantic. I see broken promises. And opportunities for the brave and the bold.”
Bruce sighed. “Don’t you see something more?”
“Do you want me to say hope? Because I don’t see it. If this was New York or hell even Metropolis, then sure, I would see hope. Hope left this place a long time ago, Bruce. Long before your parents died.”
“Not everything’s about my parents. I was thinking about the future. If this place even has a future. And I was thinking that, maybe, just maybe, there might be. If the right people start working for the right reasons.”
Selina laughed softly before catching herself. She cleared her throat, mumbling an apology. “Maybe. Maybe in some other world things do get better for Gotham. But it isn’t this world, Bruce. Things are getting more and more twisted each year. You get to rage your war against crime because, well, you can afford it. But is it going to do anything in the long run? How long can you keep punching goons and clowns?”
“As long as it takes.”
“Ooh, there’s that Wayne confidence. Didn’t take long to rear it’s head. I am serious, though. I have an escape plan too. I don’t want to steal for a living for the rest of my life. Have you ever given a thought to when, if ever, you are going to stop being Batman?”
What was Bruce going to say? All he ever wanted to do was become what he was now: a relentless man driven towards a single purpose. What would he be, if his purpose was to be taken away from him?
“Selina, it’s different. You see, Bruce Wayne is the face that everyone sees. But at the end of the day, I am only providing jobs and contributing to the economy. Charity, philanthropy, all of that works, until it doesn’t. The Batman is where that comes into play. It’s not just about cleaning up the streets. He works where Bruce Wayne can’t. The Batman works, Selina. That’s why I am here, standing and talking to you, and not dead in an alley.”
Selina walked towards Bruce, head tinted, empathy twinkling in her eyes. “This is only going to end one way, isn’t it? With you dead, on a rooftop like this somewhere. A part of you is still stuck in Crime Alley.
You can’t live in a world that’s so cruel as to take your parents away from you. And that has put you at war with yourself. There’s the part of you that’s trying to change the world, but there’s also this part of you that’s raging, like the inside of a storm. That part of you believes you can still save Gotham’s soul. But it’s a lie, Bruce. It’s a beautiful lie, but a lie nonetheless.”
Bruce turned his head away. “You are worse than my therapist.”
“Well, I try,” Selina said, tiptoeing around Bruce, a hand placed on his shoulder. “You want me to be a goody two shoes, don’t you? Is that why you haven’t really caught me all this time? Some misguided hope that I will use my skills to ‘fight crime’?”
“Maybe. But it’s more than that. You are an architect, Selina. You can build things. You could help build a better Gotham.”
“Hah! You think too highly of me. Architecture bores me, Bruce. I studied it because it sounded fancy. I am really not into buildings as much as I am into people. And right now… there is one thing I want to really explore.”
“Is that so?”
Selina stood on her toes, pushing Bruce’s cowl away as she took off her own. She embraced him and kissed deeply, tongue swirling with tongue, each gauging the depths of each other’s souls.
“Right,” Selina said as she broke off from Bruce, picking her whip up from the other side of the rooftop. She carried Bruce’s utility belt as she approached him. “I suppose I can finally see the elusive batcave?”
Bruce smirked, shaking his head. “No, I have a better place in mind.”
~*~
For the first time since forever, Bruce Wayne woke up feeling content.
He drew on his boxers and trousers, peeking a look at the slumbering form of Selina. He still didn’t trust her enough to bring her to the batcave, but then again, she could probably find it if she wanted to.
He had known long enough that he was smitten, but now as he looked at her, he felt a crushing vulnerability that he hadn’t felt in a good while. The closest he had felt to it was when he was with Talia. That hadn’t ended well at all.
When Bruce looked at her, he could see a future beyond being Batman. And that scared him, more than anything else in a long while.
He could manage the Penguin and Mr. Freeze. He could even manage the Joker on a bad day. But the idea that he could have a future with Selina boggled his mind.
He had no business being around someone like her. And she had no business hanging around someone like him. But when he put his and her broken forms together, he could see out of the corner of his mind’s eye, something that looked like a whole being.
Bruce sighed. He didn’t know how he was going to stop this from happening. And worst of all, he didn’t even know if he wanted to.
“Hi,” Selina said, stirring slightly. “You okay there, Batboy?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
This was going to hurt him a lot more than it was going to hurt her.
“Yesterday was nice. But let’s put a pin on it for a while, yeah? It doesn’t look good, for me to be dating Harvey’s ex fiancee.”
Selina shot up, sitting straight. “Really? Is that the best excuse you have?”
“We need to think this through, is all I am saying.”
Selina glowered before throwing a mean right hook at Bruce’s jaw. Bruce sidestepped it, lightly grabbing Selina’s arm. Selina jumped from the bed, twirling over Bruce’s head in an arc, attempting a swirling kick as soon as she landed on her feet. It rattled Bruce’s shins, reminding him once again that it’s not a good idea to provoke a woman’s scorn.
“Do we really have to do this, Selina?” Bruce said, his eyes trained on her slightest movements. “I am sure you understand what I meant.”
“Don’t patronize me. Of course I understand what you meant,” Selina said, rolling towards the dining room, looking for silverware to use. “This is you running away at the slightest hint of intimacy. Is this really all you are?”
Bruce grimaced. He rushed at Selina, his movements fluid and airy, limbs moving at tandem as he struck at her neck and her back. “Do you really want to have this conversation?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Then, once again, truce,” Bruce said, testily offering a hand. He winced when Selina shook it, pressing a lot harder than she needed to.
“Let’s take a seat, shall we?”
Selina nodded, seating opposite Bruce. Bruce wondered if he could actually make her back off. If not, then all bets are off.
“Selina, I don’t know about you. But I am not built for this. For whatever we have, or might have in the future.”
“Built for this? You aren’t a machine, Bruce. You can’t measure everything in your life like it’s all made of bytes or teraflops or something.”
Bruce disagreed with her vehemently on that point, but he wasn’t going to let her know about that. Especially when the table knife was so dangerously close to her right hand.
“Look, let’s say we get together. Then what? We ‘fight crime’ together? Doesn’t that make us liabilities to each other?”
“We fight well enough, numb nuts. We can take whatever the city throws at us. Also I ain’t buying this “I only fight well when I am alone” bullcrap. There’s that boy in fishnets. And there’s all of those weirdos in the Justice League too.”
“Robin’s different. As is the League. And all of that skirts what I am really talking about.
I see us dying together in an alley. Or being blown up by the Joker in our own home. Let’s say we end up having a child. Or children, in plural. What world will we leave for our children? Shall we have them become Batman and Catwoman too?”
Selina’s expressions darkened to such a degree that Bruce wouldn’t be surprised if a singularity opened near their vicinity.
“You know what’s really wrong with you? You have this idea that you can control what’s happening in your life. Or in my life. Or hell, in Gotham. But you can’t. You really can’t. It’s why, maybe, maybe, the Joker will win someday. Because in your own twisted way, you are still trying to control what he does, and what he can do, even when he’s doped up in Arkham Asylum.
You have this idea that you have to win this war that you are waging. And then you have this other, hilarious idea that love will somehow make you weaker. That it will make me weaker.
You haven’t really lived a life these last few years, have you? You have forgotten what actual love feels like. Maybe you prefer it this way. It helps you protect this idea you have about the Batman being a goddamned machine that never stops.
I don’t know how you can stand beside Wonder Woman and Superman and not see hope for yourself, and for a future where you aren’t alone. But what do I know? I am just a bored architect stealing baubles to keep things interesting.”
Selina returned to the bedroom, picking up her clothes and handbag. She was still fuming as she redressed, smoothing out the creases in her skirt and blouse.
“You are right. We can’t be doing this, not when you are hell-bent on being a manchild. Take some time off for yourself. Do whatever the hell you feel you need to do. But for your own sake, get better.
I do care for you, Bruce. And that will never change. If you are ever going for a dark night of the soul, then reach out. Call or text or send a messenger pigeon or whatever. I will be there on the other end. But you have got to help yourself, Bruce. If the Batman is always hurting like this, how can he really help anyone else?”
Bruce remained silent. He had heard what Selina had to say without saying a word in reply. Because he knew that she was right. And he didn’t really know what to do about that.
“Stay safe, Bruce,” Selina waved to him, eyes sprinkling with held back tears as she stepped into the elevator. “And get well.”
Bruce rubbed his neck, signing deeply.
He wondered what Alfred would say if he heard about this. He would probably take Selina’s side. And that’s completely understandable.
But at the end of the day, the Batman’s burden was only Bruce’s alone. And he wasn’t ready to share that with anyone else.
Even if that meant hurting himself in the process.
“I see that you have had an eventful morning, Master Bruce,” Alfred’s voice came streaming through the intercom. “Do you want me to send house cleaning?”
“Yeah, sure. I am leaving anyways.”
“I trust that your sojourn with Ms. Kyle didn’t go as you planned?”
“Yes, Alfred. Perceptive as always. Prep the computers, will you? I will be in the cave by 7.”
“As you wish.”
Bruce stared at the silhouette of the Gotham skyline as he buttoned up his shirt. He had known that the city would kill him one day, but it sure was coming up with creative new ways to hurt him.
He only hoped the Batman was stronger. He had to be stronger. Otherwise, what hope did Bruce have for a better future?
Of course, he had no hope at all. But he figured that if he kept lying to himself long enough, maybe that would change over time.
He paused when he saw a glint shining from near the bedside table. When he got nearer, he saw that it was an earring.
This was, perhaps, a keepsake of sorts. Or an invitation to continue their dialogue at another time. Whatever the case, it will have to wait.
Batman had a job to do. And since he didn’t have anything else to do on a Sunday, he might as well start early.
Time to give Dick some extra combat lessons.